


There’s a devil on my shoulder where the angels used to be (and he’s calling me the Queen)

by meet_the_girl_who_can



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, No Humanity Caroline Forbes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24953035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_the_girl_who_can/pseuds/meet_the_girl_who_can
Summary: After Liz's death, Caroline turns off her humanity and leaves Mystic Falls without a trace. Desperate to know she's alright, her friends make a Hail Mary phone call to Klaus to track her down. And he finds her, to his delight, in the last place even he'd expect.Robbing a museum in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 166





	There’s a devil on my shoulder where the angels used to be (and he’s calling me the Queen)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the absolute bop of a Descendants 3 song
> 
> A little warning regarding the canon typical violence, this fic starts with the scene from TVD 6.15 where Caroline turns off her humanity and snaps Elena's neck, just so everyone knows.

As Caroline listens to Elena prattle on about grieving, and the future, and coping with grieving or whatever the fuck it is she’s actually talking about, she contemplates the merits of snapping Elena’s neck and getting this rather dull interview over with. Just because they’ve got eternity doesn’t meant Caroline appreciates having hers wasted with this doe eyed sentiment. Nor soes it mean they’ve got to spend the rest of time together. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the gesture – because that’s all it is, a gesture, Saint Elena descending from her high horse, come to console the unfortunate, but one lesson that Liz had drummed into Caroline because it was the same lesson that Grandma had drummed into her, was to be ladylike and that a lady always knew when to leave.

“It’s not your fault, Care” Elena’s pleading in front of her, completely oblivious, “You couldn’t have known, you can’t blame yourself”

“Oh I don’t” she admits, “But I know exactly who to blame” she cuts through the other girl’s monologue, smiling beatifically back at her childhood friend, despite the rage that burns through her veins, the urge to literally rip Elena’s pretty little head off for _daring_ to come here with her lasagne and her sanctimonious holier-than-thou sympathy. After all, Elena didn’t kill _her_ parents. _Elena_ didn’t administer her blood, against the advice of older, more experienced vampires. Just another black mark in Caroline’s column.

Her fingers twitch at her sides, but when she bares her teeth, it’s her pageant perfect smile that comes through. Elena takes a little step back, and Caroline almost wants to laugh, damn fucking right Elena should be scared of her. Elena might have been the perfect human, blessed and loved by all, but they’re not human anymore.

And Caroline’s older and stronger and _better at this,_ she thinks with vicious satisfaction, quickly reviewing all of Elena’s pathetic attempts to master vampirism.

But she shouldn’t have to be okay with death, never mind good at it (none of them should, thinks the still sympathetic part of her, determined to think good to be good, that loves Elena because she’s never known anything else). Caroline was supposed to grow up, and have the things that she wanted, the things that she deserved, and get married and have kids or not have kids and not have to fight every second of every day to survive, to not give into that itch in the base of skull to just _consume_ and not be able to go out in the sun without a freaking hunk of rock on her finger.

She had followed all the rules, she had tried so hard, she’d never asked for anything that wasn’t reasonably within her reach, as Elena’s name was called over hers throughout their entire lives, waiting for her time to shine. And when it did?

She was a reanimated corpse.

She watches as Elena’s brows knit together at the hardness in her voice, the thin veneer of false brightness. “Who?”

“Oh, Lena.” She hummed, voice so sweet she was getting cavities, “Isn’t it obvious? I blame _you”_

Elena’s perfect dark brows crease, mouthing her question before she can ask it and Caroline just sighs. Not that she doesn’t understand that Elena can’t see why, or doesn’t want to, or whatever it is but Caroline’s rage cools suddenly into indifference as she finds she has no desire to answer any questions anymore. She’s not beholden to anyone, or anything, with Liz dead really. The last thread of her human life has snapped. Closing her eyes, Caroline reaches into the back of her mind, only sort of half aware, almost instinctually, of what she’s looking for. It’s there, besides the constant thirst, and she just…flicks the switch. Easy as turning off a light.

After all, vampires are supposed to live in the dark.

And…Elena’s making no sign of budging from her living room and Caroline’s got to lock up before she heads out. She may be an insecure, neurotic, bitch on crack, (well typically, anyway) but she’s got _manners._

Eh, manners are overrated. And she can text Enzo to lock up for her.

_*Crack*_

_One Year Later_

When Klaus finally sees Caroline, she’s sitting on his chest, knees bracketing his ribs in her sundress as they press into the marble floor of the Louvre’s Marly Courtyard, having dropped from fuck knows where amidst the statues and starry sky shining through the glass pyramid overhead. The Empress Eugenie’s pearl diadem has been liberated from its glass case and gleams, perched on her perfect golden curls.

“It suits you, love” he greets, meaning it obviously, as he drinks in the sight of her, not perturbed in the slightest that she got the drop on him. Literally.

“ _Merci_ ” she replies softly, accent flawless. “I did always want to be Queen” Caroline preens but her voice is wrong, disinterested and cold, like commenting on irritating weather, hand coming up to catch at the delicate piece, hands wrapped in purple nitrile gloves. She should be a Queen, he thinks. He's just always hoped she'd be **_his._** One day, on his doorstep, with the world to offer. 

“When I get up, I’ll bow to you” He mutters, without heat. He would prostrate himself in front of her if it pleased her, she was glorious, humanity or no. Although he infinitely preferred the latter. Caroline had so much heart, he was sort of terrified to see up close what she was like without. How she would cope with the aftermath, the weight of her choices. 

She grins, too bright, too full of teeth although from the gleam in her eyes she could be genuinely pleased behind the mask. She slides off him and doesn’t offer a hand to help him up. Interesting. Jumping up, Klaus fulfils his promise and sweeps her a bow, practised in the greatest courts in the world. She smiles again, more genuinely if such a thing is possible or at least, less false and curtsies just as perfectly. She eases the crown off her head and turns her back to gently stows the piece in what is no doubt a custom built storage box. Once its secure, Caroline peels the gloves off and shoves them in her back pocket.

“Might as well go for Empress” Klaus notes, more to himself, regarding her choice of crown jewels. Talk about ‘go big or go home’.

“What?” she asks, waspish at the way he’s watching her. It’s fascinating, you can barely tell she’s operating without her humanity, except for the fact that she’s robbing the Louvre in the dead of night, casual, as if this is any other Tuesday. Which it may well be, given what she’s been getting up to lately. “You’re not supposed to touch historical artefacts without gloves, the natural oils on human skin cause them to degrade” She informs him picking up the carrycase by the handle.

Caroline rolls her eyes up to the heavens at Klaus’ watchful silence “ _You’re_ not going to tell me to put it back are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it love. I can always arrange for it to be returned if you…change your mind”

“Turn my humanity back on you mean?” she scoffs. “The crown’s coming back in two months anyway. My artist just needs to borrow it to create the perfect replica and then I’ll be restoring this one”

“You won’t keep it?” his surprise betrays his lack of information. Whatever Caroline’s been doing over the past 12 months, she’s gotten bloody good at keeping it to herself. Even he’s not really sure. It’s why Elena had finally caved and called Elijah, who had been kind enough to pass the message on. Apparently the lack of breadcrumbs Caroline had been leaving had caused her friends to finally resort to desperate measures.

“Nope” Caroline replies airily, popping the ‘p’, the curve of her smile as she turns away from him proving that he’s given himself away. He has to be more careful, this is not his Caroline. He doesn’t know this side of her, though as ever from her enigmatic smile reminiscent of a certain Lisa a few galleries away, he’s eager to learn. And while it’s laughable that she could ever constitute a threat, he doesn’t want to push her to retaliate in a way she’ll regret once she turns the humanity back on.

“Old things require way more delicate handling than I have time for at present” the pointed way her gaze sweeps up and down Klaus’ form makes the point of the comment crystal clear.

Klaus cocks his head to the side, unable to resist the observation, wondering what she’d hoped to achieve. Surely, she had to know he was too old to take the bait. Plus, it’s not exactly the worst thing that’s ever been said to him. Pointed yes, but it’s not as if she’s trying to goad him, as so many humanity free peers before her. Then again, Caroline always was exceptionally eloquent in her attempts to tell him to piss off, although this is not her usual light style.

Hmm. He holds that last thought for a moment. Inverts it. Or maybe, that’s precisely what she’s doing. Showing that whatever else she is, she is no longer filled with the light that is an eternal pull. A pure heart now enmeshed in the darkness she had once fought against. He had never wanted this for her. Caroline was a beacon in the darkness, the lantern guiding the way through, turned up as bright as Grecian fire against the demons that hid there. Seeing her like this…He adds the fact to the line of dominos he’s been constructing ever since he tracked her to Paris. Clearly, from the careful, personal attention to her little operation tonight, and whatever else she’s up to, she had not factored in his appearance.

He’s interrupted her.

The fact is almost gleeful. That their surprise of each other’s impact on the other is mutual. And if there’s something he remembers from the many events which had had Caroline at their helm in Mystic Falls, she despises interruptions, routing them out with a ruthless efficiency. The realisation makes him smile, dimples popping at the fact that Caroline’s character is so rich, even her humanity-less state cannot strip it away entirely.

Caroline sighs to herself and begins to walk away, through the gallery, wending her way to who knows where. Of course, she knows he’ll follow. He doesn’t run to catch up, and a spurt of his vampiric speed is more than enough that they’ve soon fallen into step. “I can see I’m going to have to ask” she mutters, and is she, disappointed, with him? It almost stings, until he remembers that this is not really Caroline talking, and she probably wants rid of him as soon as possible. Will needle him as many ways as possible to send him running. Fat chance.

“What are you doing here, Klaus?”

“I heard about your mother”

“Oh, here we go” Caroline rolled her eyes, “Elena tattle on me did she?”

“She called Elijah, yes”

Caroline sighed, as if the whole affair already bored her to tears, “The little traitor. Is this because I missed her birthday? I _did_ send a gift”

“You sent a Ferrari, love.” It had been this uncharacteristic bout of generosity that had spawned Elena’s ever present concern into action “Not to mention the pearl bracelet that that Rothschild’s reported missing”

Caroline grinned in a wolfish way Klaus is all too familiar with, catching his eye “You’re not the only one who favours expensive jewellery”

“No” he eyed the jewel casket she was carrying in return, “I can see that”

They keep walking, taking the scenic route round to the front door. No alarms tripped, no running feet. They’ve the place to themselves. Klaus is a little bitter he didn’t think of this himself. Still, it wasn’t really the same, when Caroline was not herself.

They continue in silence; past Da Vinci’s and Titians, Caroline seems in no rush at all, but the question of why he is here, and therefore why _she_ is here, of all places, robbing the place as if it were any other Tuesday hangs heavily between them.

Caroline breaks the silence and her voice, when she does is unreadable “My mother died”

“I’m sorry sweetheart” he acknowledges, already well aware of what had happened, of how. It had been torturous, knowing she was in such pain, and so young, and the uncertainty of whether reaching out would be welcomed.

“Mmmph” and then, “You weren’t at the funeral”

Klaus’ heart leaps and he tries and fails to rein in his hopes, “Did you want me there?”

Caroline smiles, a hollow thing, and he’s given himself away, of course, sliding all too easily into being honest with her. He’ll have to watch that for the minute, until he’s more certain of this new Caroline.

“Does it matter now?” And there’s something in her face, a curiosity that could be genuine, having no humanity makes others motivations and desires fascinating from a clinical point of view and this is even worse than the question about attending the funeral, being here and not being able to reach Caroline even though she’s right in front of him, her arm occasionally brushing his as they walk.

“It was my fault. Lil tip: vampire blood doesn’t treat cancer”

He says nothing, merely dips his head, they’ve crossed out of the gallery and into the Louvre’s giant foyer, and he quickly takes the lay of the land before she slips into the anonymity of Paris’ streets.

“So your new hobby is?” he looks pointedly at the tiara’s case and Caroline laughs, the sound echoing off the stone.

A shrug slips off her left shoulder, curls spilling with it, swinging in her face. “Fléctere si néqueo súperos acheronta movebo”

Whatever else she’s been doing in her year away, she’s learned Latin. Or at least read Virgil. Naturally. Caroline never could waste a day.

_If I cannot bend the will of heaven, I shall raise hell_

Ah. And there it is, the rumours confirmed. There have been whispers, that some of his more strategically placed informants, have uncovered, of a new mastermind in the criminal underworld, clever, quick, _inhumanly persuasive,_ that nobody ever reached.

And it’s her.

Caroline’s pulled a Moriarty, the consulting criminal, the Napoleon of Crime. He says as much.

Caroline snorts. “As if. Napoleon lost. **Twice**. I go by Eris, professionally speaking”

The Goddess of Discord. Who had thrown the golden apple and ignited the spark that had led to the burning of Troy. And Caroline certainly seemed to be enjoying setting the cat among the pigeons, as it were. Discreetly. Indirectly. For the fun of it.

Gods, would this woman never fail to ensnare him?

“A being of legend” he comments, observing Caroline carefully as they move through the blazing lights of the State Apartments, picturing Caroline in the finery of the Napoleonic era and wishing, not for the first time, that she had been born sooner. She was ageless, not just in body, but in character, and would have shone in any decade. But that she could have seen them for herself, rather than the relics they left behind.

“Legends always get the upper hand of history” Caroline answers, stopping abruptly to curtsey to the portrait of Empress Eugenie, in reference. He wonders again if that’s a jibe at him rather than just a reference but decides he doesn’t care. The point of this visit was to check that she was alright – flourishing clearly, albeit in a way no-one expected – and to see if he could walk her through this. Merely as a pillar of support than to force her to confront her grief the way her so-called friends had insisted.

And Enzo, who was waiting back at the hotel damn him. Klaus couldn’t decide whether or not to give the other man the slip, despite the fact that he insisted he was not actually a rival for Caroline’s affections.

The emerge back into the central courtyard, with its glass pyramid and a ceiling made up of cloudless, starry Parisian skies. And some security guards, slumped on the floor. Klaus’ eyes stray to Caroline, as always, to find she’s already watching him. Gauging his reaction. But they’re breathing, sluggish, as if asleep and Caroline’s deep blue eyes twinkle like the stars above.

“They’ll be fine. Compelled to sleep till morning. They’ll wake up, think they got tasered and not be held accountable for my dastardly deeds, don’t worry. Elena was enough of a mess when she turned it back on to be fair warning. I’ve got it perfectly under control.”

“I know you do –“

“Then, why are you here?” and this is the closest she’s come to frustration, and he just wishes he could say it, wishes he could be selfish with her, _turn it back on, turn it back on, let me help you,_ but this is what Caroline needs right now, to raise hell. To not feel anything but to control through her own chaos. Reserved, clever, pushing back at the universe. And he loves her, he admitted that to himself a long time ago, and so long as she isn’t hurting anyone –he just wants to keep her safe. Even she must admit, vampires with their humanity off don’t have the best instincts for self-preservation.

But above all, as ever, he’s intrigued by her. He enjoys her. Why is she running a criminal empire? What does she do with the things she steals? What started off this enterprise? What has she kept for herself, diadem included?

Even now, looking at Caroline, all he wants to do is look closer.

“Do you mind if I tell them about your…nocturnal activities, sweetheart?” he’s not going to anyway, but he’s curious to see her reaction.

Caroline looked back at the glass pyramid thoughtfully, “If it wasn’t for my own collection, I doubt I’d ever have bothered with this job. But somebody else wants the diadem so, I create multiple copies, one for the buyer, one for me, put the original back and nobody gets stiffed except the pretentious selfish bastard who wanted it in the first place. What precisely does Saint Elena have a problem with?”

She leans forward, cradling his face in her hands and Klaus remembers Silas, wearing her face, and flinches away. Caroline laughs. He has to be the strong one now. For her. He has to bring her back, this time.

“Tell them whatever you want Klaus. I’m too busy to send a postcard and too vampiric to give a fuck right now. And lucky for you, I’ve got places to go, things to destroy, stuff to steal"

Again, what precisely, he wonders, burning, always burning to know her.

His thoughtful silence must irritate her, because she runs a hand through her curls and clucks her tongue to get his undivided attention. “Look, do me a favour, tell that lot I’m fine. I don’t need a Prince Charming around to keep me on the straight and narrow. At least, they’ve got the sense to send you rather than let Stefan try his luck again. Idiot got as far as Madrid following a lead I fucking _planted_ before returning home with his tail between his legs”

“As gratifying as it is to know I qualify as your idea of Prince Charming” he teases, and Gods he’s storing that away for later, to make her flush and stutter and so much more, not the sarcastic grin she flashes him, “I’m more the serpent in the garden of Eden love”

“Oh?”

“The promise of knowledge, of how to push your boundaries, comfortably but open your eyes to new avenues of…discord?”

“Look like a flower but be the serpent underneath?” she asks and he can’t help but laugh. She always could see right through him.

“Let me teach you. Let me come with you, at least. You know well enough I’m a fan. We’re the same Caroline, you know that”

Caroline considers him, a playful, teasing look on her face. Weighs up her options. She knows he won’t give up, but she also knows he’s in love with her, that he’ll respect her enough to back off and watch from afar if that’s what she wants. A smile breaks out across her face and its close enough to the one he loves best; where her dimples show and her nose scrunches up that his heart swoops in his chest and wonders how amenable she’s going to be to do these sort of excursions after she gets her humanity back, because although he’s enjoying her revelry in her misdeeds, he enjoys it when she’s scandalised too.

“So,” she asks, holding out a hand, in partnership, “what do you say, want to throw some apples around?”

Klaus bows again, somewhat delighted by the spark of the devil he sees reflected back at him, as he takes Caroline’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. She’ll turn on her humanity again, he’ll make sure. But he’ll be there to keep her safe, make sure it never goes too far (and even then, she doesn’t even need him for that, her control impeccable, unbreakable and better than his except where she is concerned) and in the meantime they’ll have a criminal amount of fun. He winks, and gestures to the staircase and the stars above.

“Lead the way, Your Majesty”

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Legends always get the upper hand of History’ is a quote from the Empress Eugenie. The woman was a bit of a rockstar.


End file.
